


speedometer

by starlightkun



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Race Car Driver YangYang, Strangers to Lovers, Street Racing, b plot found family w yuta and jisung, def in my top five fave fics that ive written ever tbh, street racer yangyang whew, yangyang is equal parts cute and hot in this yw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightkun/pseuds/starlightkun
Summary: in which you meet someone that sends your heart racing
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	1. [one]

As the car whipped by just a few feet from you, the wind blew up your hair all around you and you plugged your ears uselessly against the loud growl as it raced by. Your friend Yuta was part of the underground car racing scene, and while you usually never came to his races—mostly for fear of it being busted by the cops and thus getting you arrested or something—he managed to convince you to come to this one. Mainly because he had burned through all of your typical excuses: work—he looked up when it closed himself; studying—you were on break from college at the moment; other plans—he so coyly pointed out that you don’t have other friends besides him; and of course, being arrested—they won’t arrest the spectators.

How you had even become Yuta’s friend truly baffled you. He ran a mechanic shop as his day job, and you just so happened to have stumbled into his shop when your brakes decided to fail and nearly kill you. Having nowhere else to be or any way to leave, you hung out in his shop for the next few hours while he worked on another client’s car and then your own. You ended up talking the whole time, eventually evolving to something pretty akin to best friends over the next year. And finally, _finally_ he was able to drag you to a race.

Just behind the car that had already shot by you was Yuta’s, a sleek white car with red piping and details along it. He loved that car probably more than he loved his own mother, honestly. You cheered him on, well aware that there was no way he could actually hear you from inside there.

The crowd was made up of you, a group of men that you were pretty sure were some of Yuta’s other racer friends, some unfamiliar people that you knew had to pay the mildly intimidating bouncer for entry (your friendship with Yuta had thankfully gotten you excused from that), and a couple random teenagers who came thinking that it was so badass and criminal to be here. All packed onto a rickety set of metal bleachers in the middle of a dirt lot far outside the reaches of the urban city center you called home.

You weren’t sure why this one was any different to him than the others, why he had relentlessly tried to persuade you this time. With your eyes still on the track, you didn’t notice that anyone was making their way towards you until they plopped down beside you, creaking and rattling the entire structure you were on.

It was Hendery, one of Yuta’s employees who also happened to be in your Public Speaking class last semester. You would talk to him if the occasion arose, always fairly friendly. He offered you a smile before refocusing on the track, “Yuta finally got you out to one of these?”

“Yeah, somehow,” you scoffed, watching the tight race.

“Did he tell you why this one was special?”

“No, why?”

“The guy he’s racing just came here from Germany a few months ago and is undefeated.”

“A few months? Don’t you guys have one race a month? Two or three races is nothing.”

“Try four. All of them against Yuta.”

You looked over at Hendery again, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Really?”

“Yep,” Hendery seemed enthused that he’d gotten your attention again. “He beat Yuta at his first race here, and ever since Yuta has been throwing out the schedule in order to have a rematch.”

“That’s not fair to you guys.”

He shrugged, “We don’t care, it’s entertaining to see someone put Nakamoto Yuta in his place for once.”

“Is Yuta good?”

“The best. Well, until this guy came around.”

Hendery pointed back to the track just in time for you to see the picture-perfect finish. Yuta had lost by over a car’s length, eliciting mixed reactions from the audience. The man beside you snickered, while the teenagers probably would have been as excited as they were no matter who won, and the group of men varied between boos and yells of elation. You were surprisingly happy that the other guy had won as well, knowing that Yuta could often times get cocky and self-aggrandizing.

They both put their cars in park and climbed out, shaking hands in a very polite and even friendly manner. Hendery leapt to his feet along with the other guys who were already storming their way down to the track.

“You coming?” He offered you a hand up, which you gladly took, needing it to remain stable as the entire bleachers shook and creaked under the stampede of large men.

Once it was less wobbly, Hendery let go of your hand and led you down towards the track, trailing far behind the others. He suddenly couldn’t contain himself, running ahead of you to join in the group of boys crowding and teasing Yuta for losing again.

They had all breezed right by Yuta’s opponent, who watched on with a look of loneliness, one that you could see for only a moment before he seemed to notice you staring at him, eyes flicking up from the helmet in his hands to look at you. His face broke out into an inviting smile as he set his helmet inside the open window of the passenger door before fully turning to face you.

“Hi?” He greeted you questioningly, still with that warm and light smile across his face.

“Hi,” you echoed, unsure of exactly what to say. Glancing briefly at where you were pretty sure Yuta was, all you could see what a mass of yelling men. Yeah, you could kill a few minutes talking to this guy.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these, right?”

“Oh, no, you haven’t,” you confirmed, ushering in another bout of awkward silence before you so cleverly decided to ask him, “So, what’s your name?”

Real smooth, Y/N.

“Yangyang.”

You remembered that Yuta and Hendery had told you that racers often went by nicknames or other names around the track, mostly to keep their identities secret as part of the “this is kind of illegal” thing with underground racing. Hendery was actually his racing name, his real name of Kunhang almost never passing through yours or Yuta’s lips.

Even assuming that Yangyang was this man’s racing name, you weren’t sure why you were so curious to learn his real one. After all, you never called Hendery ‘Kunhang.’ But nonetheless, you found yourself asking, “And your real name?”

“That _is_ my real name. Liu Yangyang.”

“Oh, cute,” you stumbled over your mistake, managing to embarrass yourself even more with that small confession. While you absolutely did think the boy in front of you was cute, you had no intention of admitting that to anyone ever, especially not the boy himself.

Even _smoother_ , Y/N.

“Wh- but I just—” Yangyang gestures wildly to his car, Yuta’s car, and the track, desperately trying to remind you of his smashing victory that took place just moments ago.

His distress at being called cute amused you, “Just because you drive a fast car doesn’t mean you can’t be cute!”

“You’re annoying,” he declared, eyes glistening with mirth. He was teasing you thankfully.

“Oh come on, Yangyang!” Yuta had apparently escaped his other friends and slung an arm around his competitor’s shoulders. “Y/N’s joining us for dinner! Now go change, you smell like gas.”

“I wonder why.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t say congrats to me first!” Your friend let him go to instead throw his arm around your shoulders this time, and you rolled your eyes as you were practically forced to inhale gasoline fumes now.

“First of all, you don’t congratulate someone on their fifth loss,” you shoved him off of you. “And you _also_ smell like gas.”

Your friend sighed melodramatically as he started walking away, completely unfazed by you, “Alright, I’ll be out in fifteen. You’re riding with me, right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You _always_ have a choice, Y/N. For example, Lucas could take you.”

Wong Lucas was one of Yuta’s racing friends as well as being a frequent customer at his mechanic shop, usually for the multitude of minor crashes he would get into seemingly every other week. You didn’t want to be in his car the one time it wasn’t a _minor_ crash. Not to mention that you hardly knew the man past his (racing) name and his visits to the shop.

“Seeing as I prefer to live, I don’t really have a choice.”

“I know,” he grinned mischievously before taking off for the makeshift building they had set up nearby, Yangyang yet again just ahead of him.

* * *

The boys couldn’t have chosen a dirtier, slummier dive bar than the one you were currently in. They had packed all ten of you into a large corner booth, ordering every greasy and unhealthy thing on the menu as well as more than enough alcohol for everyone. But admittedly, you were kind of having fun, smushed in between Hendery and Yuta as they were having completely different conversations with each side. Hendery was speaking in fast-paced Mandarin to Lucas and two men you were pretty sure had been introduced to you as WinWin and Ten, surely their racing names. Yuta was having an engaging conversation about car engines with the other young guys who worked at his shop: Mark, Jungwoo, and Jisung.

Park Jisung was still in high school, working part-time at the shop. The fact that he was out this late at night, at an _illegal_ car race, and was friends with so many adult men would have been concerning to you. But you knew the truth of it, he was homeless, and Yuta gave him a job and a roof over his head as long he promised to keep going to school and keep out of trouble. Excluding the trouble Yuta got him into, of course.

That left you and Yangyang, both quietly eating and drinking across the table from each other. You’d caught him looking at you a couple times, and on the third time he decided to finally talk to you.

“So why haven’t you come out to a race before?” Yangyang had decided to ask you, popping a fry in his mouth as he waited for your response.

“I like to limit the probability that I get arrested,” you replied, to which he grinned.

“That’s half the fun.”

“You’re insane, you’re _all_ insane.”

“Maybe.”

“So, Hendery mentioned that you just came here from Germany?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

He chuckled at your blunt question, “Study abroad opportunity.”

You weren’t quite expecting that. Who goes to study in a foreign country and ends up joining the underground car racing scene?

“What are you studying?”

“Biomedical engineering.”

You didn’t even let yourself be amazed, instead becoming immediately confused, “And you race cars?”

“It’s a hobby,” Yangyang shrugged nonchalantly, as if racing cars was the most logical hobby for a biomedical engineering student to have. “Are you a student?”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing near the level of _biomechanical engineering_.”

“Well what _are_ you studying, then?”

“Cosmetic chemistry. Making the formulas for makeup and other kind of beauty products.”

“Really?” Yangyang seemed surprisingly interested in this, tossing another fry in his mouth as he eagerly prompted you to continue, “What kind of stuff do you want to do with that?”

“I’m really hoping to continue on either to join a large cosmetic company and create new and better formulas for their products, or to maybe even branch out and start my own company. I’m not quite sure which yet.”

“If I wore makeup, I’d buy whatever products you make.”

You laughed lightly at his sincere comment, “Thanks, but it’s not just makeup. Shampoo, conditioner, face wash, really anything you put on your body is part of cosmetic chemistry.”

“If you make a shampoo, I’ll be all over it,” he promised, gesturing wildly with a fry in hand before taking a deep sip of his soda.

Yuta tapped your shoulder then, keys in hand as he and Jisung were half-standing in the booth ready to leave, “Hey, Jisung has school tomorrow so we’re heading home.”

Knowing that Yuta was supposed to be your ride to your own home, you found yourself reluctant to leave Yangyang. Pulling out some bills from your wallet that you knew would be more than enough for your share of the bill, you were about to tuck it under your plate when Yuta stopped your hand, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No need, Y/N,” he focused in on Yangyang. “Winner gets the jackpot, winner buys dinner.”

“I feel less like a winner and more like a sucker at this point,” Yangyang shook his head, but nodded for you to put you money away. “Really, I’ve got it, Y/N.”

Hesitantly but also with the reminder that Jisung needed to get to sleep for school the next day, you did before reluctantly elbowing Hendery and half-standing as well.

As word slowly made its way down the others from Hendery and they began filing out to let you three leave, you gave Yangyang a casual farewell, “See you around, Yangyang.”

You could’ve sworn that you’d seen disappointment grace his features before they were cool and collected again, giving you a simple goodbye paired with a casual wave, “See you, Y/N.”

* * *

In the passenger seat of Yuta’s car, you found yourself still thinking about Yangyang. He intrigued you, to say the least. There was so much more about him that you wanted to know. ‘See you around,’ you scoffed to yourself as you remembered your words. When even was the next time you’d be able to see him? His and Yuta’s inevitable rematch next month? Were you ready to brave another illegal outing just to see Liu Yangyang again?

There was a sudden pinch on your cheek, and you instinctively slapped the hand away from your face. The hand apparently belonged to Jisung, who was cradling it to his chest with a pout, “We’re at your place, Y/N.”

Outside the window was the familiar view of your old and slightly-decrepit apartment building, and you immediately threw the car door open.

“Thanks for the ride!” You gave a cheery wave to Yuta through the open window as Jisung climbed over the console into the passenger seat you had just been occupying.

“We’ve got practice tomorrow afternoon if you want to come watch,” Yuta offered, and you arched your brow. He’d asked you to come to races plenty of times before, but never a practice. You honestly didn’t really know that they had practices for race car driving. What did they even practice?

More importantly, you questioned his reasoning, “Why the sudden offer?”

“You’re still on break, right? It’s something to do.”

Suspicious, but mulling over the idea in your head, you mused, “I’ll let you know.”

“If you decide you want to come, be at the shop by one.”

With that, Jisung’s window was rolled up and Yuta took off down the street well above the speed limit. Still with his offer bouncing around in your head, you input your code and started making your way up the five flights of stairs to your tiny apartment. Yangyang came to your mind, and you briefly wondered if he’d be at the practice tomorrow.

* * *

You curiosity had gotten the best of you, as you were stepping into Yuta’s mechanic shop at twelve fifty-two the next day. He was underneath an SUV and rolled himself out when he heard your footsteps against the concrete floor. With a victorious grin, he leapt to his feet and grabbed a rag to wipe at the grease and oil all over his face, hands, and exposed arms.

“I’ll go change then we’ll head out,” he started walking back towards the office in the corner of the building, and you remained where you were.

“Where the other guys?” You questioned loudly in order for him to hear you through the door.

“Jisung’s at school and I let the guys off at eleven for practice.”

“That was two hours ago.”

“Yeah, practice starts at noon.”

“Then why did you tell me to meet you here at one?”

“It’s called being fashionably late, Y/N,” he was shaking his head as he emerged from his office in new clothes. They didn’t look to be much cleaner than his previous ones, but at least they weren’t soaked through by his sweat.

Your suspicions must have been apparent on your face as he conceded, “And I had to finish tuning up a couple cars for clients that are picking them up after my ‘lunch break.’ I _am_ a responsible business owner first, contrary to popular belief.”

He grabbed his keys and gestured for you to leave the garage ahead of him, closing the metal shutters and locking the padlock before leading the way around the side of the building to where he parked his own car.

The ride leading out of the city was nice as you kept the window rolled down, your hair tied back, and your hand out the window, enjoying the firm but cool caress of the wind. As you started getting closer to the dirt lot, you could see the colorful arrangement of people and cars coming into focus. A bright blue car with equally neon yellow detailing around it, a muted grey car with bright orange detailing, and finally a sleek black car that had a distinct purple driver’s side door were whipping around the track as Yuta pulled up to where the other cars were parked.

You were watching the practice race with such interest you didn’t even notice that Yuta had parked the car and gotten out until he stuck a hand through your open window and pinched your nose.

Recoiling away, you glared at him and opened the door into him. He managed to just avoid getting slammed in the crotch by the door handle as you climbed out. Looking back to the track, you just managed to catch the ending. The black car won, with the blue and grey cars trailing much further behind.

“Yangyang showing off as always,” Yuta shook his head, but you didn’t miss the hint of playfulness in his words.

You remembered Yangyang’s car being dark, but because of how late it was when you first saw it, you didn’t quite remember seeing the purple door. Nonetheless, you followed Yuta with interest as he approached the track, a few more guys coming down from the bleachers to join you.

“Back at the track, Y/N?” Hendery asked, surprise evident in both his tone and his face.

“Had nothing better to do,” you shrugged noncommittally, looking back over to where the three drivers seemed to be talking over their practice race again.

Yangyang was there, as Yuta had said, in his dark black racing outfit, helmet still on as he stood with Lucas and WinWin, the latter two seemingly bickering about something. As you got closer, you could hear that they were debating who had gotten second and third.

“WinWin got second, sorry Lucas,” Jungwoo interrupted from the other side of the three men, having been the one watching at the finish line for places. He didn’t actually seem all that sorry.

The other man scoffed, but accepted the loss, “I’ll get you next time, LoseLose.”

“You say that every time, Lose-cas,” WinWin retorted, wide grin on his face still from the adrenaline you were sure had built up from the race.

At their terrible puns on each other’s names, you audibly hissed as you cringed, the other guys snickering along as well. Yangyang’s chuckle was muffled from inside his helmet, and you couldn’t look away as he leaned back against his car, hands reaching up to remove the helmet. Underneath, his hair was flattened to his head, which he quickly fixed with a few runs of his fingers through the damp locks. His face was _just_ glistening, and you couldn’t imagine how hot it was to be in a helmet and full-body outfit like that out in the middle of practically a desert, no matter the weather outside.

“Hey, Y/N!” A somewhat-familiar voice caught your attention, and you tore your eyes away from Yangyang’s visage to look over at Mark, who had appeared out of nowhere at Jungwoo’s side. “I don’t mean to be rude but, why are you here?”

“That was still a little rude, Mark,” Jungwoo informed him quietly, offering you something akin to an apologetic smile for his friend’s question.

You were unfazed by it, instead caught off-guard by the eight pairs of eyes now focused on you. Once more, you feigned your earlier cool composure when Hendery had asked you a similar question, shrugging yet again, “I’m on break from college right now and haven’t been called in for work, so it’s just something to do.”

“Glad that we’re your last choice,” Ten sighed, inciting a teasing chorus of agreements.

After they’d decided they had poked enough fun at your phrasing, they returned to their practice, which you were coming to learn was just a bunch of practice races of varying lengths with whoever wanted to drive right then. Yangyang hadn’t driven again since the first race you’d walked in on, grabbing a water bottle and keeping himself busy either at his car, in the pit-stop-esque building they had, or addressing his clothes.

Finally, they had managed to drag him back out for a race, and you were slightly worried. Not whether or not Yangyang would win, that was a given, apparently. But rather for if he and Yuta would survive, as Lucas had also been thrown in there for the heck of it. Thankfully, they all managed to make it out of there alive, practically neck-and-neck at the finish.

Apparently there had never been such a close margin for first in a race involving Yangyang, as not only the three drivers, but also the other five men who had been vaguely spectating all came clamoring over to you en masse. You had been assigned to watch for placing at the finish line, a job you were now regretting to have accepted, as they were very rambunctious and very in your face.

“Who won, Y/N?” Yuta called out, quieting the others around him as they all waited with bated breath for your answer.

Apologetic and mostly sure, you said, “Actually… it was Lucas.”

Immediate chaos.

Yuta melodramatically fell to his knees in defeat as the larger man celebrated his victory, jumping and running around as he yelled and whooped, picking up a very surprised Ten. Lucas tossed the smaller man in his arms in excitement, ignoring his friend’s protests at this treatment. Hendery and Mark were congratulating Lucas, following his erratic path around the area as he kept running with Ten in his arms. Jungwoo and WinWin stayed back to console Yuta before the three of them were overtaken by the spectacle of Lucas, solemnness turning to easy and bright laughter.

The only one who hadn’t joined in on the chaos was Yangyang, who took a seat a little way down the bleachers from you, lost in thought. You wanted to say something to him, but you couldn’t figure out exactly what. Apologize? Offer your condolences? Make a witty comment?

When Lucas finally seemed to be coming down from his high, he set Ten down less-than-gently and jogged back over, Hendery and Mark in tow. He seemed to be heading towards Yangyang, stopping in front of the boy who was holding his helmet in his hands, staring at the reflective shield in thought.

Lucas stuck out a hand towards him, “Good race, Yangyang!”

Yangyang looked up at him, half a smile on his face as he accepted the handshake, “Yeah, it was. Congrats, Lucas.”

Yuta was at your other side, setting his helmet down on the seat beside you as he stretched his legs out, having finally gotten up from his kneeling position. He looked at his watch, “A couple more races then we need to clear out, okay?”

The others agreed, self-organizing who would be racing next and who would be spectating next. Yangyang didn’t seem to be getting up, so you decided to scoot over closer to him and try to talk to him again.

“Hey,” you said quietly, not quite sure how he was feeling.

The half-hearted half-smile from earlier was gone as he turned to you with a full, genuine grin, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Off day?”

“Something like that,” he shook his head, resting his elbows on the seat behind him to lean back, closing his eyes, looking almost peaceful as he seemed to be basking in the sunlight for a moment. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Why?”

“Research essay.”

“You had an essay assigned over break? That fucking sucks.”

Yangyang let out a short burst of air, almost a chuckle at your comment, “Not quite. It’s my year-long research essay, it’s not due until the end of the semester. I just worked on it a little last night.”

“Again, why?”

“It’s something familiar, and I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I might as well have done something productive.”

“You’re… incredible.”

His eyes shot open at this, looking at you in confusion, “What? Why?”

“Anybody else—including me—would’ve just been up on the Internet or something not productive if we couldn’t sleep,” you explained, feeling almost like you were talking to some kind of scholarly superhero at this point.

“Oh…” he flashed you another smile, and you found yourself longing to see it again. “Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a brief silence, and then someone shouting your name distracted your attention to the track. Five cars were lined up this time, and you focused in on Yuta, who had apparently yelled out your name.

“Yeah?” You called out to him, itching to keep talking to Yangyang.

“Will you watch for the finish?” He screamed over the sound of the car engines. “It’s six laps!”

Giving your friend a thumbs-up, you then eagerly refocused on Yangyang. He sat up straight, turning his body on the bleachers in order to properly face you. You mirrored his actions, feeling unnecessarily happy at how he seemed to be focusing all of his attention on you.

“So where do you work?”

“I’m an intern at a cosmetics company lab. But that’s unpaid, my actual paying job is part-time at a law firm just filing and that kind of stuff. Normally they let me come in whenever I want, but since it’s still the holiday season, their hours have been irregular, so they call me in when they need to.”

“Unpaid internship? That fucking sucks.”

“‘You’re getting paid in valuable experience,’” you mimicked the phrase you’d heard multiple times over from anybody whenever you brought up that all your hard work didn’t earn you any money to eat or pay rent with.

Talking to Yangyang was easy, even if there were moments where one of you would stumble over your words or lose your train of thought. But there wasn’t a single moment when you two weren’t entirely immersed in being with the other. Which was kind of a problem, when there were suddenly seven guys standing beside you, one of whom had just slapped you on the back of the head.

“Y/N, were you watching?” Yuta, the slapper, questioned, very clearly already knowing the answer.

“Uh, no, sorry,” you admitted sheepishly, feeling your face and ears heat up as you silently realized the reason, _‘because I was talking to Yangyang.’_

The five guys that had been racing all groaned in unison. “Rematch, Yuta watches this time,” WinWin declared, to which your friend nodded in assent.

“Alright, last one!”

When they had dispersed, you and Yangyang made eye contact again and burst out into laughter. A light and airy feeling ballooned inside your chest as you sobered up from your laughing fit, falling back into your easy and exciting conversation again. The rematch had come to a close, and while they were all distracted with getting the results from Yuta, the boy beside you suddenly shot to his feet, looking to you mischievously, “C’mere for sec.”

“Where are we going?” You asked suspiciously, nevertheless following him behind the bleachers.

Your heart rate sped up as you tried to figure out where he was taking you and why. The two of you ended up at their little pit-stop shack, and you wondered why he had taken you the back way and been so secretive about it too. In the corner of the shack were some rusty lockers that looked like they had been ripped out from a school some decades ago, navy blue paint chipping and exposing the metal to the air.

Yangyang swung one open, retrieving a drawstring bag from inside. Sticking his hand in the bag, he unceremoniously pulled out his phone, deftly opening it before handing it out to you, open to a fresh Contact. You were a little unprepared for this and took some solace in the fact that his cheeks were a dusted pink too as he waited for you to input your number. Hopefully that wasn’t just from his racing suit.

Handing it back to him, you heard some commotion outside, and looked over in time to see most of the other guys coming in, probably to get their own stuff from the lockers. Hendery looked at you and Yangyang with intrigue, but before he could open his mouth, Ten had.

“Oh, what’s this?” He mock-gasped, “Did our little Yangyang just get Y/N’s number?”

“Not a big deal, guys,” you retorted, focusing in on Yuta to get you out of this, “Isn’t your lunch break ending now, _responsible business owner_?”

Begrudgingly, he agreed, “Yeah. Bye, guys.”

They vocalized their disappointment at your departure from entertaining them, and you smiled to yourself as you walked away, already feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket with a new text.


	2. [two]

You were popping into Yuta’s shop a few days later, the paper bag in your hand practically soaked through with grease as you peered around for a specific person. Spotting Jisung working on an engine in the corner, you gave him a cheerful greeting, “Lunch break?”

He looked up from the engine with a smile that was magnified tenfold when he saw what was in your hand, “Is that—”

“Your favorite? Yep.”

He met you on the bench that was usually reserved for customers to wait on if needed, facing you as you laid out the bounty between the two of you. It had become ritual for you to visit Jisung at the shop for a lunch break at least once a week, either bringing lunch with you, or taking him out. Today you’d stopped by the McDonald’s down the street from your apartment and got his favorite: Double Quarter Pounder with cheese and a medium fry. You hadn’t gotten any food for yourself, content with stealing the occasional fry from him as you two chatted about this and that.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Hendery walked out of the office in clean clothes, and you figured he had just finished his shift for the day.

“Hey, Hendery—”

There was suddenly a body that you hadn’t seen before rolling out from under the car right beside you, nearly giving you a heart attack. Mark sat up on his dolly, taking an earbud out to turn around and face you, “I smelled food.”

“Mine!” Jisung practically hissed, defensively closing the bag shut and stuffing nearly half the burger in his mouth.

“You’re going to choke like that, Jisungie,” you informed him before addressing the other guys again. “Hey, Hendery. And sorry, Mark, I didn’t plan on feeding anyone else.”

As Hendery started saying something, your phone buzzed, and you took it out of your pocket to glance at the notification. The name and the text that accompanied the name piqued your interest.

[yangyang: are you busy later?]

You’d been texting Yangyang on and off for the few days that you’ve had each other’s numbers, but neither of you had made any move to make real concrete plans to meet up. Until now.

[you: depends]

[yangyang: on what?]

You typed out your next message, mentally debating with yourself about the forwardness of it. After several moments of internal conflict, you hit send and immediately turned your phone back off.

“You good, Y/N?” Hendery had apparently noticed your lack of attention to his story that you were pretty sure was about Yuta and a stuck-up customer from earlier, but then again, you weren’t really listening.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook your head as you tried to reassure him, hands hyperaware and ears straining to listen for the next buzz of your phone.

“Who are you texting?” Jisung questioned, his words barely intelligible through the mouthful of hamburger he had.

“Oh, nobody.”

“Is it Y—?” Hendery’s question was cut off by a yelp from you.

With the hand that wasn’t holding the burger—but was equally as greasy—Jisung had lunged forward to grab your phone. You recoiled away, holding it back from him desperately, “Get back, you brat!”

“Why won’t you tell me who it is?” He was still struggling to get it from you.

Resorting to using your feet to push back on him, you ignored Hendery’s delighted giggles at the spectacle unfolding before him, instead cursing out the younger boy, “Because it’s none of your fucking business, brat!”

Then it was snatched from your hand, and you whipped around to see Yuta standing there, your phone triumphantly in his hand, “Why are we taking Y/N’s phone?”

“Because she won’t tell us who she’s texting!” Jisung practically whined, sitting back down on his side of the bench.

“You don’t know my password,” you stood to face Yuta smugly, holding one hand out. “So give me my phone back.”

“Why won’t you tell us who you’re texting?”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

Yuta frowned thoughtfully and looked as if he was genuinely contemplating giving your phone back. Then it buzzed. The whole garage was dead silent as it buzzed again. Knowing that your texts could be read from your lockscreen, you leapt at your friend, managing to wrangle it from his grasp and immediately stuffed it down your shirt as a precaution.

“Ha! I’m leaving now!” You shouted victoriously, giving them all a short wave before practically skipping out of the garage in relief.

Completely aware of how weird you looked, you fished your phone out of your shirt as you continued walking down the sidewalk. Adrenaline was still coursing through your veins as you opened your conversation with Yangyang.

[you: if you’re actually going to ask me out or not]

[yangyang: and if i am?]

[yangyang: what would your answer be?]

And with a grin on your face, you eagerly replied.

[you: not busy at all]

* * *

At exactly 6:46 that night, there was a knock at your apartment door. Scrambling to grab your wallet, keys, and phone, you took a deep breath before opening it up. Yangyang was standing there, looking just a little different than before. His hair seemed to be slightly styled (at least compared to the previous times you had seen him with sweaty helmet hair), blue jeans paired with a grey sweatshirt and black sneakers. In his hands was a small bouquet of colored daisies, accompanied by a nervous smile as he offered them out to you, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you fought back the grin trying to spread across your face as you accepted the flowers. “You can come in, give me a second to put these in some water, okay?”

Stepping back from the door, you turned back towards your kitchen. His footsteps followed you, and you found it hard to really even look at him as you got the biggest cup of yours that you could find and fill it with some water. Setting the daisies in the cup, you finally looked back over to him, catching him focused on the only picture hung in your entry hallway. It was a picture of you and your parents from your childhood, not very big, but still holding a special place in your heart.

“People tell me I look like my dad,” you commented, joining him in the hallway.

He startled slightly, eyes flicking over to you, “I can see that. How old were you in this picture?”

“That was at my seventh birthday. Wasn’t I an ugly kid?”

Yangyang seemed confused, “You’re not—”

“Obviously I’m not ugly anymore, right?”

“I—I mean, yeah, but—”

“You’re easy, Yangyang,” you giggled, then gestured to the door. “Are we going?”

He could only nod, opening the door up for you. Gratefully, you stepped through, then locked your apartment behind the two of you. Parked in front of your building was his familiar black car, and even though you couldn’t see it, you knew the driver’s side door was that striking purple.

“So why is only _your_ door purple?” You questioned as he opened the passenger side for you.

“Honestly?” He gave a breathy laugh before hurrying around to the other side and climbing in, “At my first practice here I got into a little accident that took out my door. I got it replaced it with some spare door Yuta had. He offered to repaint it for me, but I kind of like the purple.”

“Was it with Lucas?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yuta says he’s always coming into his shop after minor accidents, and Hendery reckons he’s the reason why the shop is still open at this rate.”

Yangyang chuckled at this as he started his car, pulling out into the street, “So how do you know the other guys?”

“Not very well, actually, aside from Yuta,” you explained, recalling how you had met your friend. “He owns the mechanic shop and fixed my brakes a little over a year ago and we ended up becoming friends somehow.”

“You seemed to know Hendery.”

“Hendery was in my Public Speaking class last year and works at Yuta’s shop.”

“Jungwoo and Mark?”

“I also _barely_ know them from Yuta’s shop.”

“Jisung?”

“Oh yeah, the brat.”

At Yangyang’s intrigued look of slight alarm, you figured that statement warranted some expansion, “I say that with as much love as possible. I’ll go have lunch with him or bring him some food on his breaks if I can. Usually once a week or so.”

“Why?”

You briefly mused as to how much to reveal to Yangyang, but you figured that he must already know the gist of it from being with them so often, “Yuta’s really the closest thing to family or a caretaker that Jisung’s got, but it’s not like he’s exactly equipped to raise a teenager. He’s nothing close to a dad for him, just a rambunctious older brother, really. So when we became friends, and Yuta told me about Jisung, he asked me to be that mom or responsible older sister he doesn’t have.”

“That’s… really cool for you to do, Y/N,” he declared, and you didn’t miss the sincere look of amazement across his face when he glanced over to you as he said it.

You were suddenly nervous again, cheeks and face flushing at his compliment. Looking out the window, you saw that you were leaving the inner city, but you still couldn’t quite figure out where you were going. Yangyang took your moment of silence to change the topic, patting the dashboard of his car, “Have you ever been in one of these?”

“A… car?”

“I meant one for racing.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Yuta?”

“He’s driven me places, yes. On packed city streets where he has to go a somewhat reasonable speed,” you continued watching the passing scenery, the route now becoming familiar to you.

“Oh, so he’s never done this,” Yangyang must have slammed on the gas pedal just then, as the car jerked forward at an incredible speed, throwing you back in your seat.

“Yangyang!” You screeched in surprise, hand latching onto his arm instinctively, the scenery now passing by you at a much faster pace.

He laughed lightly, reaching up with the hand of the arm you were clutching to grab yours, squeezing it reassuringly. Right before he slammed on the gas again. Another yelp left your mouth, your new grip on Yangyang’s hand tightening. His car whipped down the empty streets, taking you even further from the city, and if you could focus on anything at all, you would’ve realized exactly where he was taking you. Except you had too much to think about right now between Yangyang’s fingers casually slipping between yours, the car’s continuous acceleration, and your heartbeat thudding so loudly in your ears. Most likely from the other two things, but you weren’t sure which was more accountable for your heart racing. Either way, it was Liu Yangyang’s fault.

Finally, you had reached your destination, and Yangyang slowed his car down to a full stop, putting it in park. Now that you could somewhat gather your bearings, you deadpanned, “You’re annoying.”

But when you looked over to him, his endearing smile was unfortunately contagious, and your own face went to mimic it. He let go of your hand as casually as he had taken it, slipping out of the car. You followed suit, opening the passenger door and stepping out. Your hunch had been right, you were in the dirt lot outside of town that was now becoming familiar to you as something more than dirt: the track. In the sky over the empty expanse, the sun was almost gone, the slightest hints of sunlight meeting their brilliantly fiery ends as the cool, dark night chased them away.

Yangyang pulled a few things out of his backseat: a blanket that he spread across the hood of his car, a knapsack that he pulled some snacks out of, and another blanket that he kept in his hand. He sat on the hood of his car, gesturing for you to join him. The metal underneath the blanket was still warm from the engine, and you hesitantly scrambled up as gracefully as you could, not having much experience with sitting on car hoods.

With the snacks between you, Yangyang spread the second blanket across your laps, the whole situation bringing a soft and self-conscious smile to your face. He had put some real thought into this, and every part of it just screamed of a sweetness you didn’t know he had in him.

When he’d finished laying the blanket down, he looked back up to you earnestly, as if waiting for you to confirm something.

“This is really nice, Yangyang,” you decided to say, earning a bright smile from him.

“Yes!” He did a small fist pump, “That’s what I was going for.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“This isn’t it, Y/N.”

“Oh?”

Despite your response prompting further explanation, Yangyang didn’t give you any, instead ripping open a bag of chips and offering it out to you, “Hungry?”

The two of you talked quietly as you split the snacks, sometimes about college, sometimes about the other racer guys, sometimes about your childhood, wherever the conversation naturally flowed. A little while after the snacks had been finished, the wrappers stuffed back in the knapsack, and the knapsack unceremoniously dropped on the ground beside the car, Yangyang started shifting on the hood.

You realized that he was moving to lay down, then gestured for you to do the same, “C’mere.”

Not wanting to lose the warmth of the blanket, you had no choice but to do so, in close enough proximity that you could feel the heat coming from his arm that was just touching yours. But something else stunned you even more. The sky was filled with dozens of brilliant stars that you hadn’t noticed earlier, and that you could never see from your own apartment in the middle of the city.

“Wow,” you breathed out, still taking in the breathtaking sight above you.

“That,” Yangyang pointed out a few stars, “is Libra, my star sign.”

“The scales, right?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Oh, come on!” He scooted closer to you to be able to point them out more accurately from your line of sight. “There’s the top, and that’s the left… dish thing, and that’s the right dish thing.”

You found yourself looking away from the stars and over at the man whose face was just centimeters away from yours, propped up on one of his elbows and nearly hovering over you as he wildly gestured with the other hand. Mostly, you were amused at the way he passionately pointed to the stars, oblivious as to where you were actually looking. His face was just so animated, you couldn’t help but watch him instead of the sky.

“Do you—” Yangyang’s question got cut short when he finally looked back down to you, seeming to have the same realization as you of your proximity.

Blinking your eyes innocently at him, you could feel the anxiety creeping up inside of you as you waited for him to do something. You didn’t know what exactly you _wanted_ him to do, but it was fun watching him try to decide as he was frozen. The moment stretched on for what seemed to be eternity, until he finally muttered something that sounded akin to ‘fuck it’ before kissing you. His lips melded against yours, banishing any semblance of cold that the night had brought to your body. It was embarrassing how quickly your skin had heated up as your hands reached up to clutch at his shirt, as if you could possibly pull him any closer. Or maybe you were trying to ground yourself to something as Yangyang kissed your breath away. He broke away for just a second, barely enough time for you to inhale as he readjusted to place a hand on either side of you, supporting himself above you as he went back in for another kiss.

You’d never been one to kiss on the first date, but then again you hadn’t had many successful first dates, or second or third. For no particular reason, none of them had sparked your interest. But right now, Liu Yangyang had your full and undivided attention, mouth completely enrapturing you as he kept kissing you. Neither of you moved to truly deepen it, but you were content like this, simply getting a feel for one another. One of your hands left the warm space between your chests to inch up and around to the back of his neck, fingers rooting themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Then suddenly your legs were cold, and an instinctive shiver shot through you at the cold wind hitting your heated and now exposed skin. Yangyang pulled off of you with a hiss, “Shit! The blanket!”

He slid off the hood of the car to retrieve the said blanket that had apparently fallen off of you in the midst of your well-lived makeout session. You laughed when he had victoriously gotten it back, wild grins on both your faces, not even caring that the mood had essentially been ruined. When he laid back down beside you, you didn’t hesitate to move next to him, even closer than before. Resting your head on his shoulder and curled up into his side, you nearly sighed in content as he wrapped the blanket around you two again.

“Show me Libra again,” you requested, feeling one of his arms encircle you to pull you closer to him.

He chuckled, his other arm reaching up to start pointing at the stars again, “So there’s the top…”

* * *

It was sometime later that you were still snuggled up to Yangyang on the hood his car. The heat of the hood had long left the two of you, the metal becoming overtaken by the chilly night air. Neither of you were particularly warm anymore, the blankets doing nothing except blocking out some of the brisk wind. Knowing that it must be late too, you were about to reluctantly speak up, when Yangyang beat you to it.

“You know why I lost that race the other day?” He says with no prompting whatsoever, and you crooked an eyebrow up that he couldn’t see.

“Uhm… you suck?”

“Hey,” he pinches your side as a warning, making you squirm in his arms for a moment as you giggle. “That’s mean.”

You pat his chest apologetically, “Continue, Yangyang. Why did you lose the race?”

“You can’t tell the other guys.”

“Why are you trying to swear me to secrecy? You’re the one offering the information to me.”

“ _Y/N._ ”

“Alright fine, my lips are sealed.”

“Well,” he shifts a little bit beside you. “Because I knew you were watching.”

His bluntness caught you off-guard, and you buried your face in your hands, his words successful in warming you up a little bit. When you peeked up at him again, you could see a satisfied smirk on his face, he had gotten the reaction from you that he wanted.

“You better get used to it, then,” you mustered up your own confidence to declare. “Because I’m going to all your next ones.”

Now it was his turn to be a little flustered, stuttering for a moment before giving you a simple, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you held out your pinky to confirm it, and he firmly linked his with yours.

“You know, I think we should seal it with a kiss, to make sure we—”

At that, you scoffed and rolled away from him, taking the blanket with you. Standing up, you wrapped it around yourself tightly, “I’m cold.”

Yangyang shot up at being exposed to the cold air fully, taking the other blanket in his hands as he got off the hood too. He grumbled something as he grabbed the long-forgotten knapsack and rifled through his pockets for his keys.

“What was that, Yangyang?”

“I said you’re annoying,” he repeated it for you, successfully finding the keys and unlocking the car. “And that you’re lucky you’re cute.”

You entered the car still bundled up in the blanket and with a shit-eating grin across your face. He climbed in the driver’s side with ease, starting the engine and turning on the heaters to full blast. Yangyang offered his hand over to you, and you looked at it with suspicion as he puts the car into an easy drive.

Before you could question it, the car shot forward, Yangyang’s laughter being drowned out by your screeches. Mentally cursing him out, you took his hand in your tight grip, knowing full well that he had you right where he wanted you. Not that you didn’t also want to be here, you thought to yourself as you laced your fingers with his again, an excitable fire coursing through your veins.


	3. [three]

Some weeks later, and a car horn was honking obnoxiously outside your apartment building. Rushing out the door, you nearly forgot to lock it behind you. After you had clumsily done that, you threw open the car door and eagerly slid into the passenger seat.

“Do you have to bother my whole block whenever you pick me up, Yuta?” You addressed him with a scoff and an eye roll.

Surprisingly in the driver’s seat was not your best friend, but a terrifyingly familiar boy. Yuta’s head popped forward from the backseat, “Wasn’t me this time!”

“Oh fuck no, Jisung is not driving me anywhere,” you shook your head firmly, the grin on both their faces multiplying by tenfold at this.

“He’s a better driver than me.”

“That’s a real low bar, Yuta.”

“Buckle up, Y/N!” Jisung said cheerfully before peeling away from your building.

You hurried to do so, annoyance and apprehension quickly fading as your elation overtook you again. Yuta seemed to notice this, “So why did you _ask_ to come to the race this time, Y/N?”

“Yeah, don’t you want to not get arrested or whatever?” Jisung added, hitting a turn much too hard for your liking.

“It means a free meal afterwards, right?” Your reply was paired with an even brighter smile. You’d conveniently forgotten to tell them that it was also because you wanted to see your boyfriend race again. Even just _calling_ Yangyang your boyfriend in your head made you giddy all over again.

Two nights ago, as you two shared a bowl of popcorn and some kisses that tasted distinctly of salt and butter, you’d devised your secret plan, for Yuta to take you to the race instead of you showing up with Yangyang. He had _also_ conveniently forgotten to tell his racing buddies that you were dating. If he won, you’d congratulate him with a kiss in the middle of the track, in front of everybody. And if he didn’t, then you’d have to wait for next month to reveal your relationship. Surprisingly, it was his idea, he claimed that he needed a good incentive to win this time. If you cared, you’d have argued that he’d beaten Yuta five times without you as an incentive. But you didn’t.

“Can’t beat that logic,” Yuta agreed.

It was then that you noticed Jisung’s outfit, “Are you racing tonight, Jisungie?”

“Yep!” He answered proudly, puffing his chest out. “I’m gonna beat Yangyang since the old man can’t.”

“Hey!” The man in the back thwacked the younger boy’s head, earning a scowl from him. “You haven’t even beat _Mark_ , how do you expect to win tonight?”

“Does Mark suck or something?” You questioned, not quite remembering if you’d seen him race before or not.

“Yeah, big time,” Yuta confirmed, then thwacked Jisung again, “And so does this punk.”

“I’ll crash your car, gramps,” Jisung warned, successfully riling your friend up even further.

“Not with me in it!” You scolded him, forcing both of them to back down, the atmosphere of the car returning to friendly again as fast as it had heated up.

* * *

At the track, you had time to mingle around with the guys as they prepared for the race, currently leaning against Ten’s car with him and Hendery, the three of you watching on and making quips about the swarm of girls that had cornered Lucas at his neon blue car. Looking away from the scene for a moment and over Ten’s shoulder, you made eye contact with a familiar face.

Yangyang gave you a small smile from where he was conversing with WinWin, Jisung, and Mark. Your eyes fell back down from his face to Hendery’s as you struggled to suppress the surely lovestruck grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“So who’s racing tonight?” You asked, taking a moment to survey the cars around you.

Lucas’ eyesore of a car, Yangyang’s black and purple car, Ten’s red and orange car, WinWin’s grey car, a neon green car you couldn’t place to an owner in your mind, and of course Yuta’s white car that would be driven by Jisung tonight.

“Myself,” Ten started, then pointed to each driver in turn as he listed them off, “Lucas, WinWin, Yangyang, Jisung, Mark, and we’re waiting on Jungwoo right now, actually.”

“Wow, that’s most of you,” you commented in surprise.

“It usually is, but Yuta became absolutely obsessed with beating Yangyang these past few months,” Hendery explained, and at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, you couldn’t help but glance over at him again.

“He still hasn’t, has he?”

“Nope, Lucas is the only one with that honor.”

Ten shook his head, “Somehow.”

“And even then, it was only that once in a practice, not in an actual race so it doesn’t _really_ count.”

Just then, an electric yellow car with a thick hot pink stripe down the hood of it pulled up to the dirt lot, causing a stir in the men around you.

“Princess Jungwoo finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Yuta yelled out in exasperation as the car was parked.

The man that got out was indeed Jungwoo, and he seemed unfazed by the backlash and complaints he was met with by his friends, “Sorry, had to hit up the ATM.”

“For thirty minutes? Did you go to the one two towns over or something?” Hendery asked and the bouncer came up to Jungwoo, holding out the bag that held all the cash of the jackpot for the race.

Jungwoo deposited his cash inside of it, replying to Hendery as he did, “Would you rather I have not paid up?”

“We’d rather you have better time management skills,” Ten called out to the newcomer.

“Are we going to race or not?”

With a mix of grumbles and cheers, the guys started getting ready. You and the others who weren’t racing made your way to the stands. Looking over your shoulder, you wanted to see Yangyang’s face just one more time. He was putting his helmet on, and you weren’t sure if he was actually looking at you or not, but you still offered out a thumbs-up before catching up with Hendery and Yuta.

Sitting on the cold metal bleachers reminded you of your first date with Yangyang, sitting with him on the hood of his car and ignoring the cold seeping through to spend more time with each other. You hadn’t had an excursion quite like that again with him, but as you thought of it with fondness you felt your cheeks heating up when you remembered what else you’d done on the hood of his car. You briefly wondered if you’d have a repeat tonight, if he’d win or not.

The bouncer—who also served as the starter—was holding his hand up at the start line. All seven cars were lined up, a deafening sound coming as the race started. Your eyes tracked Yangyang’s car as he broke away from the others, holding tight to the inside of the track. Jisung was surprisingly close, as were Ten, WinWin, and Lucas. Jungwoo and Mark were lagging behind, neck-and-neck for last place it seemed.

“You seem invested, Y/N,” Hendery commented, snapping your focus from the track.

You realized that you were literally on the edge of your seat, fingers anxiously tapping against your knee. Forcing yourself to settle back on the bench, you offered a nonchalant smile, “It’s way more exciting with more drivers.”

He mirrored your smile, “Yeah, it is.”

“Come on, Jisungie!” Yuta suddenly yelled out, leaping to his feet.

Back on the track, Jisung was closing the distance between him and Yangyang, and you could feel your own heart speed up at this. You started cheering along with Yuta, and Hendery soon joined both of you standing as a distinct red car came up from behind Jisung. All three of you were cheering for different drivers. Yuta for Jisung, Hendery for Ten, and yourself for Yangyang. While his name didn’t leave your lips, you still cheered and bellowed along with your friends beside you.

The race this time was only four laps, meaning that Yangyang didn’t have to keep the lead for much longer as they whipped past the finish line for their last lap. To your relief, he started pulling away from the ranks, creating a distance between them that Jisung and Ten couldn’t make up as the finish line came even closer. Yangyang’s sleek black car streaked across the finish line two whole car-lengths ahead of whoever was second. You stopped paying attention to the other cars at this point, eyes focused only on the black car as it slowed to a stop a safe distance past the finish line.

Yangyang climbed out of it, pumping a fist in the air in victory. The bouncer had declared the race over as the last car slowed to a stop after finishing. You took off at a run, a single destination in mind.

Your boyfriend had barely set his helmet down inside his car when you grabbed him by the collar of his racing suit and yanked his lips to yours. Everything else was muted around you, nothing else mattered in that moment except Yangyang. Once he’d gotten over his split-second surprise, his gloved hands went to your hair, then your cheeks, then your waist, they couldn’t stay still. Your mouths meshed with one another’s eagerly as you kissed.

You broke away, putting the smallest amount of distance between you to be able to look into his eyes, “Congrats, Yangyang.”

He was grinning so brightly that you might have gone blind, a sight that made your chest swell. Pecking your lips again, he finally settled his hands on yours, gently taking them from his collar to hold in his own, “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Uh,” a voice from beside you snapped you out of your trance. “What the fuck?”

Turning to the side, you saw that all of your friends had gathered there, Jisung at the front with his arms crossed. He had been the one to speak up first. But now they were all yelling out various things, and you couldn’t distinguish a single sentence to be able to reply to. Yangyang took his hands from yours to remove his gloves, lacing his now bare fingers with yours as he waited for them to quiet down.

With an innocent shrug he said, “Not a big deal, guys.”

* * *

“How did you guys _not_ know?” Hendery gestured wildly with his beer bottle, a little too much alcohol coursing through his veins.

You were crammed into the same corner booth as before, this time with your boyfriend’s arm wrapped around your waist, and the two of you dodging the occasional attempt to pry information about your relationship out of you. Somehow your relationship had been brought up again as the topic of conversation, and you shook your head at Hendery’s claim.

“How did _you_ know, Hendery? We’ve seen them together like twice!” Lucas yelled back indignantly, inciting a chorus of agreements from the other guys.

“I saw his homescreen the other day and it’s a picture of Y/N, so I figured that either he’s a huge creep, or they’re dating.”

The others groaned, saying how that wasn’t fair or something. You laughed lightly and shook your head, snatching a chip from Yangyang’s plate. His hand darted out to catch yours, and you raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. The mischievous look on his face did nothing to calm your heart as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “You’re forgetting something.”

“And what would that be?” You replied, just as quiet and well aware of the several pairs of eyes on you as some had gone to their own conversation while many didn’t.

“Payment.”

“For the chips? I don’t think so, winner buys dinner, remember?” You tried to jerk your hand from his grasp.

Yangyang didn’t let up, however, “You didn’t contribute to the jackpot, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew exactly what he wanted. “You’re annoying,” you informed him with a hint of a smile, leaning in to give him a quick peck.

Half the table went in an uproar, Yuta going so far as to throw a curly fry at you as they all yelled different versions of “Oh gross!”

Ducking away from the fried missile, you could only giggle, victoriously popping the chip in your mouth now that you had ‘paid up.’

* * *

Some time later in the night, you were in conversation with Jisung and Yuta about the fact the former still hadn’t started on his history project that was due in just a week. You were of the opinion that he should start at least thinking about it, while Yuta had done no sort of policing on the matter at all. While Jisung normally listened to you, or at least agreed believably enough to get you off his back about, tonight he was pissy and combative.

“Y/N, you’re not my fucking mom! Just lay off me for once,” Jisung finally snapped, catching you off-guard.

The whole table was frozen, everybody looking between the two of you as your eyes widened with surprise. Jisung and you typically had some kind of banter, but he’d never addressed you with such venom in his voice before.

Yangyang broke the uncomfortable silence that had descended over everyone, “Jisung, she just—”

And succeeded in setting him off again, “Shut up! I hate you! Leave me alone, everybody just fucking leave me alone!”

With that, he pushed himself out of the booth, practically sprinting out the door. Everyone was still quiet, until Yuta sighed and turned back to his food, taking a long swig of his beer and then another bite of his hamburger.

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Ten asked with concern, the others nodding their heads as well.

Yuta shook his head, “He’ll come home, he just needs some space for right now. And for Yangyang to never talk to him again, probably.”

“Me?” Your boyfriend tensed up beside you, and you couldn’t even assuage his worries or have any kind of reaction, caught up in your worries for Jisung.

“Well, I mean…”

The conversation faded into the background for you as you quietly finished your plate of food. You kept your phone in hand, hoping that Jisung would call or text you or something. Even though he spent a considerable amount of time on the streets before, you were still worried for him being out alone in this area of the city and so late at night.

* * *

You hadn’t seen or heard from Jisung in nearly a week when your phone buzzed with a message. Every buzz of your phone since the night of the race had spiked your heartrate, wondering if this time it’d be Jisung. Shifting in Yangyang’s arms, you pulled your phone out from your back pocket. He readjusted as well, absentmindedly kissing your temple as his focused was captured by the movie playing on his TV.

[yuta: you need to come over]

[you: what’s happened?]

You typed out your message with shaky hands and blood roaring in your ears.

[yuta: just come over]

Fearing the worst, you practically launched yourself from Yangyang’s grasp, hurrying to collect your various jackets and shoes you’d need to put on. Your boyfriend was confused as he watched you rush around, “Y/N?”

“I’m going to Yuta’s,” you said, sitting back on the couch to yank on your boots.

“Baby, it’s nearly one in the morning. What could he possibly need?” He tried to reason with you, following you as you leapt back to your feet and pulled on your layers.

“What if it’s Jisung?”

Yangyang stopped, switching gears with a solemn nod, “Alright, well it’s fucking freezing outside, I’ll drive you there.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

The ride to Yuta’s was short and silent as you were perched anxiously on the front of the seat the whole time, leg bouncing and eyes nervously scanning the passing buildings. Yuta and Jisung lived in the small apartment building right next to the shop. When Yangyang pulled up, you put a hand over his as he went to turn the car off, “Just wait here, okay?”

“Okay,” he relented easily, but still looked apprehensive. “Good luck.”

You ran up the stairs until you reach the third floor, apartment 3-13. Knocking firmly on the door, Yuta surprised you by throwing it open just a moment later.

“Hey,” he greeted you brightly, a jarring juxtaposition to the tumultuous tsunami raging inside you.

You followed him in, looking around the familiar little apartment with a nostalgic smile. It had been a while since you’d been in Yuta and Jisung’s home, the faded orange couch, broken TV constantly crackling with static, and dirty kitchenette that was never used except when you’d force them to eat a home-cooked meal from you, greeted you for the first time in almost a couple months. You used to spend almost every other Saturday night here, either having made food for them, or ordering takeout to eat on the rickety balcony attached to their window.

“Hey,” you echoed, still peering around looking for the missing boy.

“Jisung’s in his room. Doing his history project,” Yuta gestured to the two bedroom doors, reaffirming the reason he had asked you over.

Opening Jisung’s bedroom door quietly, you were happy to see that he _was_ working on his history project, terribly drawn historical figures adorning a poster board as he was writing other information underneath them. He turned at the sound of the door opening, regarding you with slight suspicion.

The two of you were quiet for a moment until you finally decided to say, “Hi, Jisungie.”

Before you could process anything, he was standing up, arms wrapped around you tightly and sobbing into your shoulder. You hugged him back, one hand gently stroking his back as you let him cry. You couldn’t think of a single time that you’d seen Jisung cry. Not when his first girlfriend broke his heart, not when he talked about living on the streets, not when he’d mention his parents that he could barely remember, never. And here he was, sobbing in your arms as he held onto you tightly, as if you’d disappear if he didn’t. Your heart broke for the boy, not knowing why he was crying, exactly, but wishing you could take whatever pain he was feeling from him.

“Oh my god, I’m so gross, I’m sorry,” he moved to pull away from you, a light laugh coming from you at his comment.

“The snot is a little gross,” you agreed, wiping at your bare skin with the collar of your shirt. “But crying and feelings things isn’t, Jisung. What’s wrong?”

He chewed on his lip, sitting on his bed again, and you followed him. His voice cracked again as he spoke, “You’re one of the only consistent people… that I’ve ever had in my life, Y/N. But you haven’t been over, and we only get lunch once a week now, and I’m afraid… that I won’t see you anymore.”

As he had spoken, you could feel your own bottom lip start quivering as tears welled in your eyes. “Oh, Jisungie,” you reached out for him again, and when he hugged you again, you were the one crying this time.

Stroking his hair, you tried to keep your voice level as you spoke through your tears, “I’m not going anywhere, bub. I’m sorry that I haven’t been coming over, and that it’s felt like I’m forgetting about you. I’m so sorry.”

The two of you sat there for another moment, drying your own respective tears and cleaning up your faces with some tissues he had at his bedside. After making plans for lunch twice this coming week, you then walked back out to the main space, where Yuta was lounging on the couch. He glanced up as Jisung walked you to the door, giving you a small wave of understanding and farewell.

You were sure that your eyes are still red when you got back into Yangyang’s waiting car. He looked to you expectantly, concerned as he took in your surely puffy face. But when you gave him a genuinely happy grin, his face relaxed into a relieved smile of his own. Leaning over the console, you pulled his face to yours, sharing a long and sweet kiss.

“What was that for?” Yangyang asked with a winded smirk.

“Just drive,” you leaned back in your seat, not forgetting to reach over and entwine your fingers with his.

* * *

Three weeks later, and you were practically skipping out of your only class of the day, your three-hour Organic Chemistry Lab. You’d just finished up your lab, and the report was due next week, and since you were the only one who _didn’t_ spill your dangerous acid, your professor would be giving you and your lab partner Xiaojun extra credit. Saying goodbye to Xiaojun as he had to go to his next class, you turned your phone back on that you had shut off for the lab.

A text message immediately popped up.

[yangyang: lunch?]

[you: i can’t, i promised jisung we’d have lunch today]

Then you got an idea.

[you: unless you want to come with?]

[yangyang: doesn’t he hate me?]

[you: hate is a strong word]

[you: he doesn’t do well with change, and he’s just suspicious of people he doesn’t know, he’ll like you just fine once he gets to know you]

You kept your eyes trained on your phone as you walked down the streets back towards your apartment, waiting for your boyfriend’s response.

[yangyang: okay, sure]

[you: cool, we’re going to pick jisung up in about an hour]

* * *

When you arrived at the shop in Yangyang’s car, Yuta watched you with interest from the front desk. Jisung was already waiting for you, backpack on his shoulders as he was chatting with Jungwoo, who was apparently doing a minor repair on a hilariously familiar car.

“Lucas wrecked his car again?” You asked with a snicker, causing both the boys’ heads to whip around.

“Fortunately it’s just a busted taillight this time,” Jungwoo replied as Jisung’s face lit up.

“Hey, Y/N!” He greeted you brightly.

“Hey, Jisungie,” you replied humorously before turning to Yuta. “When is his break over?”

“Actually, his shift is over. You two can drop him wherever you want after,” Yuta informed you, waving you off with a nonchalant hand.

It was then that Jisung had apparently noticed the man you’d brought with you. Yangyang had stayed back at his car and was now seeming nervous as you and Jisung approached him.

“Hi, Jisung,” Yangyang greeted him, and the younger boy looked at you with a small frown.

You gave him a pointed look in return, and the teenager sighed before mumbling, “Hi, Yangyang.”

“Alright, boys, let’s go!” You said cheerily, giving the other two men a wave over your shoulder as you ushered them out of the shop.

* * *

After an awkward time ordering and sipping on your drinks, the ice between Yangyang and Jisung seemed to have finally broken, all three of you falling into an easy and laughter-filled conversation. The two of them would even gang up on you sometimes to tease you, a new development that you didn’t care for all that much.

“I think I liked this better when you hate him,” you huffed, crossing your arms and digging back into your seat.

Jisung snickered, reaching over to pinch your cheek, “Oh come on, Y/N. I’ll buy dessert, okay?”

“No,” you said with a knowing smirk, sitting forward again, eyes trained on your boyfriend. “Winner pays for dinner, right?”

“First of all, this is lunch. Second, what exactly did I win here?” Yangyang snorted, shaking his head.

“No, I think Y/N’s onto something here,” the younger boy agreed, folding his hands atop the table very business-like. “You see, you’re dating Y/N, right? Would you call that a win?”

“Well—”

“Oh? Are you saying that dating Y/N isn’t something good? Is it a loss for you, then, Yangyang?”

Yangyang rolled his eyes, clearly having been caught between a rock and a hard place, “You’re lucky you don’t hit up pool clubs, Jisung. You’d hustle the wrong person out of their money and get punched in the nose.”

“You know, that’s a pretty good idea actually—”

You smacked his arm as a warning, not wanting him to genuinely consider this.

He pouted before laughing it off, “I’m only kidding, I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

After lunch, Jisung didn’t have anywhere in particular to go yet, so you and Yangyang decided to keep him around with you for the rest of the day. The three of you wandered the streets, stopping to watch a busking, then window shop at stores you’d probably never be able to afford, and ending the day with cheap ice cream from a corner store on the way back to Yuta’s apartment.

You said goodbye to Jisung on the stoop, chest swelling with happiness as Yangyang and Jisung exchanged a friendly goodbye before you went in to hug the boy goodnight. You made sure he had made it safely inside before turning to Yangyang, reaching out a hand to lace your fingers with his, “Thank you, Yangyang.”

“For what, baby?” He tilted his head curiously.

Unable to voice your feelings, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, burying your face in his neck and sighing happily. He hugged you back with a chuckle, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek, “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Once you’d let him go, you ended up back in his car, a relatively peaceful drive back to his own apartment, where you had decided you’d be staying for the night. As you went to find some clothes to take for your pajamas for the night, Yangyang set to work making some instant ramen for the two of you. You were just walking back out to the kitchen in one of his sweaters and a pair of basketball shorts when you heard him yelp and say something in German that you didn’t quite know, but judging by the tone of his voice, was probably a string of colorful language.

In the kitchen, Yangyang was running cool water over his hand in the sink, and you held back your chuckles as you asked, “What did you do?”

“I may or may not have just burned myself on boiling water, like an idiot,” he shook his head, continuing to cool down his burn.

“You’re dumb,” you said affectionately, wrapping your arms around his waist and dropping your head to rest on his shoulderblade.

“How do you make even that sound like a compliment?”

You smiled to yourself, patting his stomach reassuringly before letting go of him and turning to finish up the instant ramen yourself. Yangyang met you on the couch with a couple drinks as well, the two of you talking the night away through mouthfuls of noodles and between chugs of soda. His fingers were gently playing with yours as you recounted your victorious lab experience from earlier, soft smile across his lips as he listened with interest. His mouth parting into a yawn that he tried to slap a hand over midway caught your attention.

Looking over to the clock, you realized that it was nearly two in the morning, “We should go to bed.”

“I’m not tired!” He tried to argue, but you shook your head, standing and starting to clear the trash off the table.

“Yes you are, Yangyang.”

Another yawn struck him, one that he let go this time. With a pout, he relented, dragging himself off the couch.

“Fine,” he grumbled before snatching you by your waist and yanking you back into his chest, arms around you tightly. “Only if you come with me.”

“Yangyang!” You giggled, hitting his arms bonelessly, still with the trash in your hands. “Can I at least clean up?”

“I’ll get it in the morning,” your boyfriend kissed your neck a couple times.

“It _is_ the morning.”

“Y/N,” his voice was practically a whine as he moved his hands up to remove the trash from your hands and set it back on the table.

You rolled your eyes as he let out another yawn, this one right beside your ear, “Alright, but you’re actually going to sleep, mister.”

He mumbled noncommittally, letting you go to instead take your hand in his and lead the way back into his bedroom. Yangyang flopped down on the bed with no prompting, holding his arms open wide for you. You shut the light off and climbed in with him, settling between his arms and bringing the blanket up to cover the both of you.

“Night, Y/N,” he pressed a sweet and light kiss to your nose, his eyes already closing rapidly.

“Goodnight, Yangyang.”

It didn’t take long for Yangyang to fall silent, but for some reason you were still awake, your brain not wanting to turn off as your thoughts were too far to the front of your mind. Everything about today, about Yangyang, about your relationship with him was just… perfect. You were so incredibly happy you didn’t even have words to aptly describe it. You’ve known this boy for less than three months, but somehow, he’d managed to brighten up your life in the simplest way. By just being there.

Yangyang shifted in his sleep, breaking you out of your thoughts for a moment as you gently wrangled yourself from his grasp to let him toss around in peace.

Now on your own side of the bed, you thought about how lucky you were to have met him, in those perfect circumstances: at a race that you normally wouldn’t have gone to, after he moved to a country he hadn’t lived in before. Right, he wasn’t from this country. He was from Germany. He was, specifically, a student from Germany who was studying abroad for a semester. Just a semester, then he’d go back.

You knew this when you’d started all this, how did you really expect it to end? A distinct sadness came to your heart when you thought of him going back home. Of him leaving you. Why did you even bother when you knew he’d just leave you?

That thought had never really processed in your head until now, and you bit down on your lip to ground yourself to something as it replayed itself to you over and over and over again.

“What are we doing, Yangyang?” You whispered to his back, not expecting him to give you a response.

“Well, I’m trying to sleep,” his matter-of-fact statement startled you as he turned over on his other side to face you properly. “But I’m guessing you didn’t mean that.”

“I meant…” After getting over your surprise and slight mortification, it took you a moment to piece your thoughts and worries together into something intelligible, “You’re going back to Germany after this semester. Why are we even bothering with…”

“Us?” There was a frown on his face that you could just distinguish in the dim light. Yangyang reached a hand out to brush a piece of hair back from your face affectionately, “Why do you think that would change anything?”

“We’ll be on different continents; how could that _not_ change things?”

He had a knowing smile on his face as he said so nonchalantly, “Who said I’m going back to Germany, anyway?”

“No,” your voice dropped back to a whisper of disbelief. Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“I looked into it, and if I wanted to, I could permanently transfer to my university here.”

“What happened to just studying abroad for a year?”

“Plans change, people change, things change.” Yangyang mused almost to himself before he refocused on you again, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hand, “And I met someone that I would move across the world for.”

“Why would you move to a whole other country just for one person?” You could still barely process that he was talking about you, that you were the one person he’d move across the world for. You found yourself reaching up for his hand with your own, as much of a sucker for his affection as ever.

“Because this one person is really special to me.”

For some reason unknown to you, you were arguing against this so heavily, and you wished you could just shut yourself up, but you couldn’t, “Like you just said, people change. Maybe we change and don’t like each other anymore, and you left your home for nothing.”

“And I think that even when we do start changing as people, we’ll still be right for each other. I’m not about to miss out on… on the love of a lifetime, just because of a _maybe_.”

“The love of a lifetime?”

Yangyang’s words seemed to have caught up to him as you repeated them, his skin becoming warmer to your touch as you were sure he was blushing. He stumbled through an explanation, “I meant… I’m not saying that I love you, I know it’s too early. But I just— I know that I _will_ love you, and I have this feeling that this _could be_ , you know… the love of a lifetime.”

“You have to stop saying things like that, Yangyang,” you whispered affectionately, squeezing his hand.

“Why?” He questions with half a smirk on his face, the atmosphere becoming light-hearted and teasing again.

“Because you might never be able to get rid of me.”

“Perfect.”


End file.
